Poems (Chitwood)/George D. Prentice
GEORGE D. PRENTICE.
Oh! thou wilt love me less, Less in the hour we meet;It is no face of loveliness Thy dreams have made so sweet.
Thy soul hath trusted mine! And mine, oh mine! thine own;My future all bereft of thine, Were cheerless, sad, and lone.
Sweet absent friend, as yet Our ways have led apart;Thine earnest eyes I ne'er have met, Nor heard thy throbbing heart;
But sometimes, when I stand Dreaming of lovely things—What time the gloaming o'er the land Hath spread its golden wings;
What time the maiden moon Looks shyly on the waves,And listens to the solemn tune Flowing from mermaid caves,—
Oh! at that time I think Thou com'st, the fond, the true,To drink my thoughts as lilies drink At night the shining dew.
Let not a single tie That binds our souls be reft;One after one life's joys go by, But may this one be left.
Then let us never meet, Oh! name no future hour;The bud has been so very sweet, Something would blight the flower.